Devonne Brown

One morning my classroom was unlocked and its door was open, the doorstop jammed tight to hold it open. Everyone else’s in the Penthouse, that’s what we called the third floor of West Side Middle School, was propped open too. It was weird because I always arrived an hour earlier than everyone else and their doors were always locked, so was mine. I thought it was strange, but the custodians were unpredictable to say the least.

I piddled in my room for a while until breakfast duty beckoned, and began my trek through the building to the cafeteria. As I left my room, my door slammed and locked behind me. When I passed Mr. Green’s room beside of mine, the same thing happened. Every door on my way to the elevator slammed and locked. My palms began to sweat.

The elevator stopped on the first floor and I figured the sound would stop. It was rumored that The General walked the halls with the teachers when they were alone early in the morning, but I never thought it was true. Today I was beginning to think the legend was real.

It was a long way from the elevator to the office. Each door I passed closed, slammed, and locked just like the doors of the Penthouse. Even in the office, the principal’s, vice principal’s, and counselor’s office did the same thing.

The General was feeling bold that morning. By the time I reached the cafeteria, the ghost had calmed down and disappeared. He didn’t like kids’ noise any more than most of the adults in the building and took off before breakfast was ready. He didn’t like the kids much. Their racket got on his nerves. He needed to make his own noise to someone who’d appreciate it.

You do believe me, right?